September 30, 1968
The intercom on J.T.’s desk buzzed.
“Yes?”
“It’s Marty, J.T. I have to see you.”
“Just the man I wanted to see,” J.T. said exuberantly. “I was about to buzz you myself. Come on in.”
Within a minute, a very serious Marty took the chair next to J.T.’s desk.
“What’s the matter, Otto?” J.T. asked.
“The Tauber case.”
“That’s just what I was going to talk to you about. I got a call from Judge Moriarty.”
“What did he have to say?”
J.T. raised his eyebrows. “He said that he hadn’t planned to allow the Tauber defendants all the discovery they asked for, but you up and gave it away. He is concerned we’ll create an unnecessary precedent.”
“That’s very fair and impartial of him,” said Marty.
“What does fair or impartial have to do with Judge Moriarty?” J.T. chided. “I know you’re somewhat more emotionally involved than usual in this case,” J.T. continued, “but we really ought not position ourselves to be embarrassed in our other cases.”
“You may be in line for a great deal of embarrassment with this case,” Marty said gravely.
“How’s that?”
“Since you’ve already read the grand jury minutes in the Tauber case, I assume you remember that our phony robbery defendant, Rainone, testified that after Judge Tauber sent him to his son, Randolph concocted a phony defense for him. Rainone said Randolph wanted him to testify that the complainant was really a fag, and that he made a pass at Rainone, and because Rainone rebuffed him, the complainant went and made the original complaint.”
“Yes. I remember.”
“I assume you also remember that Randolph Tauber testified at our grand jury that he did not advise Rainone to make up a phony alibi? Young Tauber testified he told his client that he could not take the stand because he had such a bad record—the bogus one our office pumped into the computer for him. You remember that too?”
“Yes, I remember that too.” J.T. listened carefully.
“And, based mainly on that conflict in the grand jury testimony, Tauber and his son were indicted.”
“There’s a little more to it, but basically that’s correct. Come on, Marty, get to the point. I have to get to a meeting uptown. We’re putting our team for the mayoral run together, and I have an appointment with the president of the Regional Teamsters Council. I want to get their endorsement. And some of their money!”
“You may need their money more than you know, when you hear what I have to tell you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“This tape,” said Marty, taking a cassette from his pocket, “was made by Rainone when he talked to Randolph Tauber.”
“What’s on it?”
“Tauber very distinctly and audibly tells Rainone that he cannot take the stand, that his record is so bad that it is impossible to let him appear before a jury. Therefore, these was no concocted defense—just as young Tauber said.”
J.T. said nothing.
“It means, doesn’t it, J.T.,” Marty continued, “that our undercover man deliberately lied to our grand jury? Our own tape makes Rainone’s—our witness’s—testimony perjurious. We had to know about this. It’s our tape! And we let it stand! We sat back and let the indictment lodge against the Taubers and put their careers on the line. And we knew—or should have known—they were telling the truth in front of the grand jury. They didn’t commit perjury, our man did.”
“I knew nothing about it,” J.T. said flatly.
“This was a special situation that you personally concocted. How could you not know?”
“I didn’t know how Levine was going about it, Marty.”
“Do you realize how embarrassing this is going to be? You can protest all you want that you didn’t know what was going on, but that isn’t going to relieve you of legal responsibility when the Taubers sue the State of New York and you personally for a jillion dollars.”
“Does this tape have to get out?” J.T. asked.
“What?” Marty raged. “Are you suggesting that we suppress this tape, that we let the Taubers go to trial and be convicted, when we know they didn’t commit the crimes they’re indicted for? You think I’d be a party to that?”
“No, no, of course not. That’s not what I meant. You don’t think I’d let myself be a party to anything like that either, do you?”
“I’m wondering.”
“Jesus, Marty. I said I didn’t know about it,” J.T. said, offended. “But you’re right. I’m going to be held responsible for it. The papers will have a field day dancing on my head. Just when I don’t need bad publicity.” J.T. winced. “Damn.” He pounded his desk with the palm of his hand. “That bastard Levine.”
“Why the hell are you blaming Levine? You encouraged him to the hilt to get you this indictment.”
“God damn it!” J.T. screamed, flinging everything from his desktop with one sweep of his arm. “Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn, goddamn, goddamn, goddamn.”
“And that’s putting it mildly,” Marty said.
“Sure, you can afford to be clever. You’re not the guy out front who’s going to be kicked in the ass. The press will flay me. You’ve got to help me out of this, Marty,” J.T. said desperately.
Marty wondered if J.T. was affecting this emotion for his benefit. “Excuse me, but I don’t have a lot of sympathy for this situation, J.T.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to turn these tapes over to the defendants.”
“What? Marty, the newspapers’ll kill me. How can I start a mayoral campaign if you do that? Those liberal rags will have a field day.”
“What the hell do you want me to do, let the Taubers get convicted, lose their licenses to practice law, Judge Tauber be defrocked? I told you this scheme of yours was dangerous.”
“Okay, okay, so you told me. Now what? I’m in a real jam, and at the wrong time. Couldn’t be a worse time.”
“Do you realize that all this started because Sergeant Lewis vaguely remembered a rumor that Seymour Fine might have mentioned to a client that he had given money to Judge Tauber? All this from a rumor!”
“What do you think we should do?” J.T. wondered absently.
“Even after Seymour Fine insisted he was only reaming a client for a bigger fee, you persisted. You wanted to indict a judge so badly that you went to this length to get a case against Tauber. Did it ever occur to you that Seymour Fine was telling the truth? That he was really just a cheap shyster trying to steal a few extra bucks?”
J.T. shuddered. “Don’t mention Seymour Fine’s name to me.”
“Why, because he committed suicide in a fit of depression over this?”
“Let’s talk about the mess we have on our hands now. What should we do, Marty?” J.T. rose and took Marty by the arm. His eyes were round with fright. “Please, Marty, please. I swear I didn’t know.”
“Get hold of yourself, J.T.”
“Suppose, just suppose, that you were me, Marty. What special words in the English language could you use to convince your best friend that you needed help? Are there such special words?”
“All right, all right, just don’t beg.”
“You believe me?”
“Yes, anything, just so you stop whining. It’s demeaning.”
“Do you have to give them the tapes right now?” J.T. wondered.
“You’re not telling me you want me to suppress these tapes and let the Taubers keep going through emotional torture until the trial?”
“The law doesn’t require you to turn them over now. Not until trial, right? Delay the trial so they’ll still have plenty of time to prepare. Where’s the harm there? Primary’s only a few months off. After that, give them their tapes over now. Our entire futures, our careers are on the line.”
“Our futures?”
“If this office is blasted by headlines suggesting improprieties while you’re the chief of staff, you’re not going to get a standing ovation out in the job market either, you know. You have a stake in this too, Marty. I’m just asking for a little time.”
“Why should the Taubers continue to suffer just to save our hides?”
“We didn’t do anything, Marty. We didn’t know. Why should we suffer for Levine’s insanity?”
Marty hesitated.
J.T. saw that fatal hesitation and smiled to himself. “Besides,” he said, “there are other counts to their indictment other than the one about the phony alibi, aren’t there? Even if you give them the tapes now, the case wouldn’t be over, would it?”
“There’s nothing much to the rest of the case, J.T.”
“But there is something?”
“Yes.”
“Just hold on to the tapes for a little longer. I’ll get my mayoral campaign moving so fast we’ll fly out of here. Let’s leave this hot potato for the next special prosecutor.” J.T. jammed his fist down on the intercom button.
“Yes, sir?” the secretary’s voice asked.
“Get Stern on the intercom for me,” J.T. demanded.
For a few minutes, Marty and J.T. sat silently. J.T. stole an occasional glance at Marty, who was deep in thought. After a short wait, the intercom buzzed.
“Yes?” J.T. said into the phone.
“It’s Stern. You wanted me?”
“Call Levine into your office. Fire his ass. Immediately. And make sure he’s out of this building in thirty minutes.”
“Right,” Stern said with pleasure.
“And if he tries to see me, tell him there’s nothing to discuss. Get him out of here. Now!”
J.T. looked over to Marty for approval. Marty was staring at the ceiling, unhappy with himself.
“Well, what’s wrong now? Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“If you fire Levine now, it’ll underscore the Tauber situation, won’t it?”
J.T. was pensive. “Good thinking, Marty,” he said, pushing the intercom button again.
“That’s what I was afraid of. I’ve even learned to think like you.”
“Don’t fire him,” J.T. directed into the intercom. “Just ream him out royally for being a dumb bastard.”